what if

what if the guy that made eyes at me as we walked passed each other to my house, the guy who looked back as i was unlocking my front door. what if he waited to see which windows lit up, then looked passed the vestibule glass doors to try to work out the apartment numbering system based on the one or two he could see. then hand wrote me a letter saying he "just had to contact" the magical girl from that cold, cold night.

and then we went out and got married and had babies.

and this, my friends, is the fantasy world i live in.

besides, he probably couldn't fix things with his bare bear hands. which is way hotter than romance.

tonight i went to supper on east 2nd with some friends. that place is ALWAYS good. that fancy mozarella, can't remember what it's called. very creamy. so good. mushroom crostini, tasted like meat! so good. i had tagliatelli with bolognese. other people had other stuff. honestly, never disappointed there.

no dessert, people had to pack for plane trips home tomorrow.

i stole 2 of these pics from the interweb.


tortilla flats

every time i go to this place (3 times over the past 7 years) i leave wanting to stick my finger down my throat.

IT'S DISGUSTING. plus, do you know how much they charge for a pitcher of patron margaritas? $70.

do you know how much ONE patron margarita costs? $16.

this is supposed to be chile con queso. it's like garbage.

canned food is better. i swear.

don't go. just, just don't go.



hi guys. i love you. no really, i do.

just got back from a glass of wine with my friend duh-nise. at the bowery hotel. saw my ex (who owns the fucking place) and tried to sneak around the back way to go potty without him seeing. but then the douche in tight pants and a tie told me the restrooms were the other way. i was like, i know but i'm trying to avoid my ex (who owns the fucking place...your boss). he said the secret way was locked.

so i walked past sean in my fat jeans and uggs and a turtle neck that was a little too short from dry cleaning too many times so my muffin tops were peeking out. greasy hair, no makeup, and unruly eyebrows.

but whatevs. it's not like i care what HE thinks, it's just that as a rule one should always make every guy she's ever dated think they lost the best thing that ever happened to him.

i wonder if there is one guy i dated that even does...oh well.

i looked even worse than this:

i should always look more like this:

no no no wait. this: